Mirror
by Gypsy Love
Summary: A modern day teen notices a striking similarity between his life and the novel, "the Outsiders".
1. Default Chapter

In my small city there was only one high school. This had the unfortunate result of forcing together the rival groups of the city, the rich bastards from Bedford Hill and the poor bastards from the Olde English Village.

Bedford Hill was actually an area of four or five streets where the doctors, lawyers, ect lived with their noxious offspring.

The Olde English Village, usually just called the Village, was a complex of apartment buildings that were subsidized and people with low incomes or welfare lived there.

I lived there. We were low income, the working poor. My sister Diane worked about a million jobs to pick up the slack since my dad left. She should be in college but we just didn't have the money for her to go.

On a typical school morning I'll head to my best friend's apartment and we'll walk to school together. The Bedford Hill bastards get dropped off in their shiny cars or they drive cars of their own, mustangs and cadillacs and corvettes.

My best friend Jake comes from a bad home. His parents drink like fish, his dad hits him a lot, his apartment is always trashed. I'm better off than him, I know it. My sister takes care of things, money and cleaning and the like. Jake had no one. He had to take care of himself.

On this morning that's what I did. Jake lives in the same building as me. I can always hear the fighting coming from his apartment, so I have a pretty good idea what type of night he had. But I'm still apprehensive about knocking on his door. His parents make me nervous.

"Hi, Jake,"

"Hey, Paul,"

We headed to school. Jake was a year ahead of me but he was two years older, he was 15 and I was 13. But I got moved up a grade in grammer school. He might stay back. He didn't like school anyway, but with all the trauma of his parents' fights it was no wonder he couldn't concentrate on it.

"Lookit that car, shit," Jake said as we neared school. It was a brand new cadillac the color of butter, and it glided into the parking lot as smooth and easy as you please.

"Rich bastards," I said in a low voice. Jake nodded and brushed his long bangs out of his eyes. I don't know why he bothered. They'd just fall back again.

"Hey, where's Shawn?" Jake said. Shawn was my 15 year old brother. Diane was 19.

"He's working," Since my dad left and my mom fell apart he'd been working extra at the convenience store, gas station he worked at. They didn't care that he was supposed to be in school.

Jake kind of shrugged. He was real quiet. He hardly talked to anyone, just me and my sister and brother, Shawn's best friend Seth, and some other friends of ours who lived at the Village.

"Hey you white trash welfare bastards!" Jake and I looked over at the shout. A Bedford Hill rich ass bastard, as usual, in his designer clothes and stupid cell phone and 200 dollar sneakers.

"Fuck you!" I shouted, not good at witty comebacks on such short notice. Jake was staring at the ground. I was glaring at the rich kid. I wanted to kill them sometimes. They had nice clothes, nice houses, nice cars, and they still had to pick on us. It wasn't our fault we were poor. It wasn't Jake's fault his parents were no good violent drunks. It wasn't my fault my dad up and left. Why did those rich bastards hate us so much?


	2. ch 2

Jake and I split up to go to our homerooms.

"See ya," he said. I waved and headed off. My first class was English which I was pretty good at. But that class, like a lot of my classes, was full of the rich kids, and they gave me looks like they thought I was scum.

At my locker I was getting my stuff for my first class when I heard a cultured voice slice through my thoughts.

"I'm gonna kick your ass you welfare piece of shit,"

I froze. As I said, I was 13 but in ninth grade because I got moved up a year. So I wasn't the biggest kid in the school. Jake was small, too, and though I'd never been beaten up by any of those Bedford Hill swanky bastards, Jake has, and it wasn't pretty.

I shut my locker door and behind it saw the crazy grinning face of Tim McEntyre, a 17 year old nut who lived a few buildings away from Jake and me.

"Shit, Tim, what are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?"

He laughed his hyeana laugh, pretty soon he was clutching his sides he got such a big kick out of himself.

"Paul…" he started to say, but had to take a break for laughing, "Paul…you shoulda seen your face…" Tears in his eyes he was laughing so hard. I had to smile. Tim was harmless. At least he was comic relief. It kinda balanced out Jake, who was so solemn and serious and a nervous wreck.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I have a class to go to," I said with mock sternness. Tim ignored that.

"Look," he said in a stage whisper. He wore one of those pea colored army fatigue coats with a million buckles and pockets. In the inside pocket he lifted a bottle of Wild Turkey. My eyes widened and he laughed again.

"What'dya think of that?" he said, grinning.

"I think you're crazy. You're gonna get caught,"

He shrugged. He honestly didn't care. I envied that in him and wished I didn't have to care all the time. It gave me headaches and nightmares. Jake was a pretty obvious mess, so jumpy and nervous all the time, but I was a secret mess. I hid it better, that's all.

So off to class. I ignored the Bedford Hill kids giving me that superior stare. Screw them.

"We're going to read a novel," the teacher said, handing out a stack of slim paperbacks. The girl in front of me was real pretty. She had long red hair, she was a cheerleader, and she was a Bedford Hill resident, of course. I liked the way the light looked on her hair, how it made it look redder, almost on fire. She handed me the stack of books and smiled with her white, even teeth. I smiled back but it felt awkward. What would a rich beautiful girl like that want with a poor young kid like me? Her name was Cheryl Vincent. I bet she didn't even know my name.

The book the teacher passed out was "The Outsiders" and I could tell it would only take me a night or two to finish it. I read like a fiend. I thought it was part of the reason people thought I was so smart. It wasn't that I was all that smart, I just read constantly so I knew shit they didn't.

**A/N**: Thank you to those who reviewed. If you haven't, please do so I can improve with this…tell me what you think:)

**Hahukum Konn**: Thank you so much for your review! And thanks for the tip on the cars. I don't know that much about cars but figured I'd throw a Mustang in to link with the book.  D

**Ale Curtis Carter**: Thanks for the review, glad you like it. You know, I thought I may have overused bastard. I just really like that word. #shrug# I'll tone it down, though…see how it goes.  ;D


	3. ch 3

Jake was waiting for me outside of school and we headed home, keeping half an eye out for the rich bastards who wanted to mess with us.

It was understood without even speaking about it that Jake would come to my apartment. He really tried to avoid his parents as much as possible.

"Here," I said, tossing him an apple. He had sat at the kitchen table, and caught the apple with his right hand. Bit into it. Diane always bought fruit and stuff for snacks, never junk food. But it was better than Jake's house, they never had food there. They got food stamps, of course, like we did. But somehow his parents never managed to have enough food in the house.

He ate his apple and I ate mine, looked out the living room window at all the kids outside. Living at the Village was like living in the middle of a giant, wild recess. Kids ran, yelled, swung on the swings, balanced on top of the jungle gym, ran into the buildings, ran out. Chaos. Pandemonium. Jake watched it all with his solemn eyes.

We were alone at my apartment. Shawn was still working, or maybe off somewhere with Seth. And Diane worked every night. She was a waitress.

"Have you seen Derek lately?" Jake said, tossing his apple core into the trash. I shook my head.

Derek Washington was a 16 year old punk who was good friends with Diane and Shawn, and Jake practically worshipped him. I didn't know, though. He was trouble. He did drugs, he was in and out of lock up. His parents had given up on him. He was unpredictable, prone to fighting. Truthfully, I didn't like him. Of course I'd never say that, like when he shows up in the wee hours of the night, high as a kite, looking for a place to crash.

Seth and Shawn barged in, laughing, rummaging through the frig.

"Working tonight?" I said to Shawn, ignoring Seth. I knew he probably wasn't since he skipped school to work all day. I just asked to find out what he was doing.

He grinned at me, his wide, expansive grin. He had straight white teeth like a movie star. He was actually very handsome, and he knew it.

"Nope, no way. Got a big date tonight,"

Shawn kind of amazed me. He was carefree, despite how things kind of sucked. Diane was a bit of a wreck, trying to keep the family together despite the fact that our mother flipped out when dad left. And I was kind of serious and very aware of what may happen. Mom was incapable of taking care of us, and while they couldn't really touch Diane because she was 19, they could ship me and Shawn off to some foster hell and that would be that.

It had happened to Jake a few years ago. He got a beating that landed him in the hospital and then DSS yanked him out of his house and put him in a foster home. I think he was 12 or so and it was a foster home on the edge of the city. Diane brought me out there to see him and he looked awful. I felt a weird thing, like he was lost and beyond help in a way. When we left I thought I'd just never see him again. But after a year or so his parents pulled their act together enough to get him back. He never talked about that foster home, never talked about what happened to him there.

"How late is that office open?" Jake said, referring to Diane's job as a filer at a doctor's office.

"She isn't there. She's waitressing,"

"Oh,"

We went out and played a little basketball with some younger kids. The court was okay except I think they put it in during the 60's. It was all cracked and the net was long gone.

Jake got an impossible three point shot. It was just a fluke, he wasn't great at sports. Neither was I. He gets the three point shot, the younger kids stare at him in amazement, and he smiles. It was that sweet smile, that sweetness about him that makes us all want to protect him, even Derek. Maybe especially Derek.

Once it got dark we headed in. The drunks and the drug addicts come out at night like vampires, and they'll jump you for money.

Back at my place we flipped through the channels as the room grew darker around us. We were left with the flickery blue glow of the T.V.

We both fell asleep, and the door opening woke us up. I blinked at the clock. One a.m.

"Hi, Paul," Diane said softly. She was dressed in her funky waitress outfit, a white button shirt with a 70's collar, black tie, black skirt and tights, chunky shoes. She worked at the Organic Manic downtown.

"Hi,"

She kicked her shoes off, closed her eyes, put both hands on the small of her back and stretched. Then she came in the living room, ruffled my hair and then Jake's.

"Hi, Jakey. You staying over?"

He was blinking sleepily, yawned, and stood up.

"Naw. I gotta get home,"

"Okay, honey. See you tomorrow,"

Jake left and Diane crashed in the living room, the remote in her hand. So I went to my room. It was actually Shawn's room, too. I didn't mind sharing a room with him. It was kind of comforting.

Even though the next day was Saturday I thought I'd start reading the book for English, "The Outsiders".

x……………x……………….x…………………..x

"Rise and shine, buddy," A pillow was thrown at my head and the sun streamed into the room full force. Another pillow, smack.

"Cut the crap, Shawn, will ya?" I rolled over and tried to get back sleep.

"C'mon, Diane cooked breakfast. Pancakes!" He jumped on me.

He was fully dressed, looked like he'd been up for hours. That kid had more energy than anyone I ever knew.

I stumbled out to the kitchen. Sure enough, there were pancakes. Diane sipped on coffee. I noticed someone asleep on our couch, covered in the afghan.

"Jake?" I said to Diane. Sometimes Jake came over if his parents were giving him a hard time. He came over at three in the morning one time. She shook her head.

"Derek," she said. I raised my eyebrows.

"Hey Derek! Get up!" Shawn yelled, soft tackling him. Shawn is the only one who dared do that. If I did that Derek would flatten me.

"Hey, man, back off," Derek shoved him off and curled up under the afghan. Shawn shrugged. Nothing fazed him.

I shook my head, amazed at Shawn's audacity. He was one of those people who never ceased doing head shaking things.

I finished up breakfast, got dressed, and headed over to Jake's. I had the book with me. I'd read the whole damn thing last night.

"Where are your parents?" I whispered.

"Sleeping. Don't worry," he said, and I followed him into his room.

Jake's room was sparsely furnished. Just his bed and a dresser. Some movie posters. He loved movies. Escaped in them the same way I escaped in books.

"Why haven't I read this book before?" I demanded, holding it up. He frowned, took it from me.

"Because it was published almost 40 years ago?" he said.

"That doesn't matter, it doesn't matter,"

"I saw this movie," Jake said.

"There's a movie?"

"Yeah,"

"I never saw it,"

"Well, it came out in the 80's," Jake shrugged.

"Jake, this book, it's about me,"

Jake looked at me blankly for a second.

"Huh?"

"It's about me. It's my life,"

He looked at me cautiously, the way you might look at the guy muttering to himself and shaking his fist at the sky.

"Paul? It's about Ponyboy Curtis, a greaser in the 60's, from Oklahoma,"

"Yeah, Ponyboy Curtis, Paul Cameron,"

Jake licked his lips.

"You have the same initials, so what?"

"We all do! We all match up! It's me, or I'm him. Jake, this is weird,"

**A/N**: Thank you for your reviews! I love you guys!

**runaway run**: Thanks for the compliment. I'm glad you like it. :D

**Grace**: Thank you…hope you like this chapter, too. :D

**Hahukum Konn**: I love your tips and advice, keep it coming. :D


	4. Chapter 4

I went to the window and looked out the smudged glass. Jake was looking at me like I might be crazy.

"You never read this book, huh? You just saw the movie?" Why did I bother to ask that? Jake didn't read voluntarily, and got out of it most times he was forced to. I've done most of his homework for him.

He nodded, still looking at me cautiously, the way he looks at his dad, or the rich bullies at school.

"Then, then you don't know, maybe the movie isn't exactly the same but the book, it's my life exactly…and so what does it mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything. What could it mean? It's just a coincidence,"

"Look, Jake, listen, would you? Every main character in this book had so many similarities to the main characters in my life. It's like a freakin' episode of the 'Twilight Zone',"

I didn't like this. It was sinister. The book was a tragic story, and I didn't want my life to be a tragic story, too.

"So who am I in this stupid thing? Johnny?" Jake said, looking at me with those big eyes.

"Yeah, you're Johnny,"

"Great. Doesn't he end up dying?"

"Yeah. So see? This isn't good,"

He laughed.

"Paul, your imagination is out of control. We're not those characters. We'll be fine,"

Well, I thought Jake was wrong but I wasn't going to argue anymore. What he didn't seem to see was that the time and place, the only things that were different, didn't matter. It was the themes. We hated the Bickford Hill kids like the greasers hated the socs. Things were unfair.

At school Monday, walking in with Jake as usual, one of the bigger Bickford Hill jocks shoved me against a locker.

"What the hell?" I said. He barely glanced at me.

"Stay out of my way,"

I shook my head, walked on.

"Don't worry about them," Jake said.

"I think I should worry. They're socs,"

"Whatever,"

We were about to split up to go to our homerooms when I got an idea. I grabbed Jake's T-shirt and pulled him over toward the lockers.

"Hey, c'mon," he said, staggering a little after I dragged him after me.

"Listen, I've got an idea,"

Jake shook free of my grasp and waited.

"I'm going to test it, to see if what happens in the book is gonna happen to me,"

"You're ridiculous! It isn't going to happen! It's just a book, Paul…"

"I don't care. Listen. On Friday I'm going to go to the movies, alone, just like how the book starts, and then…"

Jake shook his head and headed off toward his homeroom.

"You're losing it, Paul,"

I watched him go, a small 15 year old with black hair and shabby clothes.


	5. Chapter 5

I went to the movies alone, like I said I would. It was some movie with Brad Pitt and I found myself wishing I looked like him. Even my thoughts were running in the same patterns as the book. It was weird, beyond weird. I didn't care what Jake said, I was right.

I started walking home, thinking a car would start to follow me and any moment I'd get jumped just like Ponyboy did in the novel, just like that. It would happen because my life wasn't my life at all, just a version of a story that's already been told. Nothing was what it seemed to be.

Jake wouldn't know, and I knew why. The movie, movies always leave out shit, and I guess he just didn't see the same similarities that I did. As I was thinking this I saw the fancy car slow down, following me. I got quiet inside of myself, knowing what was coming. Tragedy was barreling down on me. There was no escape.

The rich kids hopped out of their car and I let them surround me. There was no way to stop them. I tried to be like a zen guy, you know, here but not here. I blinked at them, barely struggled as they grabbed my arms and twisted them behind my back and punched me. I remembered when Jake got beat up and how he looked so…bad. I thought of that just like Ponyboy thought about Johnny getting beat up.

And then I was rescued, just like Ponyboy was rescued. Seth and Shawn and Derek chased them off, and beyond them I saw Jake and Diane and Tim, and Diane rushed over to me, shaking me and asking me if I was okay.

"Yeah," I sat on the curb and took a swig of the soda that Jake offered to me, and after everyone asked how I was and finally took off and I was left alone with Jake.

"See?" I said, rubbing my arms where I was punched.

"See what?" he said, kicking at some pebbles that were near his feet.

"See, it happened just like in the book. I've started the events now, I've started the series of events that will lead to the destruction of us all," I looked down, the ground blurring beneath my tears. Jake was shaking his head, his dark hair falling in front of his eyes.

"That didn't happen in the movie," he said.

"So what! The movie doesn't matter! It happened in the book!" I was practically screaming at him, and he was starting to look more than worried.

"Paul, you need to get a grip,"

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The next night was not a school night and who should come over but Derek, wanting to go see a movie at the drive in way out in the boonies two towns over. There would be no stopping it, I knew that. No stopping it. I said that me and Jake would go.

So we went, and on our way there Derek's piece of shit car broke down, and I was freaking out, sputtering about being at the drive in without a car. Derek looked at me sharply from beneath his sheath of white blond hair.

"So, we can just sit in the seats up front," he said, and I sighed.

So there we were, and the pretty cheerleader from school, Cheryl Vincent, was there with her dark haired friend Michelle.

"Watch this," Derek said, and started saying obscene and beyond dirty things to the girls, making Jake and me blush, but of course he would do that because he was Dallas, and that was what Dallas did in the book.


End file.
